


Riches and Wonders

by mirawonderfulstar



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Homesickness, M/M, Protective Brock, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 05:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13711074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirawonderfulstar/pseuds/mirawonderfulstar
Summary: "Brock knows that for all Doc acts like he wants money and power and success, what he needs is to be surrounded by people who really, truly love him. And while the boys growing away from their father and taking advantage of their newfound freedom in the city is healthy and understandable, it can’t be doing anything to help with the whole 'losing your home and way of life' deal."





	Riches and Wonders

**Author's Note:**

> this is some self-indulgent nonsense, ooh boy. Title from Riches And Wonders by The Mountain Goats which includes the lyrics "I am healthy / I am whole / But I have poor impulse control / And I wanna go home / But I am home" which is a Big Mood Always.

Brock feels a huge swell of relief when he gets reassigned to the Ventures. Not necessarily because he misses them, although that’s true, too. No, it’s because he knows Doc, and he knows the next few months are gonna make every effort to break the man, and he knows that if he isn’t there and something goes down he’ll never forgive himself.

Doc might talk a big game, and he might even be able to fool the world that he’s a big enough man to fill J.J.’s little shoes, but Brock had lived with him for over twenty years and knows better. It’ll be two weeks, a month tops before he starts to crack up. Brock wouldn’t be surprised if he's already back on the pills. He makes a mental note to look through the bathroom cabinets and Doc’s beside table when he gets there and settled in.

He confiscates two containers of amphetamines and one of caffeine pills before he’s even finished unpacking. Doc doesn’t come looking for them and Brock hopes he’s been sufficiently cowed by having them disappear that they won’t have to actually _talk_ about it. They don’t. When Pete and Billy move into one of the labs and Doc starts to work with them on ideas for the science expo, Brock relaxes a bit. As long as he’s doing work he’ll probably be okay.

And he is, for a while. Between figuring out what he’s doing with his brother’s company, and dealing with the level 10 Guild members busting down their door every week, Doc doesn’t have a chance to be alone with his thoughts and start to panic (or something worse). Brock lets his guard down a little, lets the boys go out and do stuff in the city, starts seeing Warriana. Things are going surprisingly well.

But, nevertheless, Brock comes home late from Warriana’s apartment one night and finds Doc up on the wide ledge of the balcony, swinging his legs into the empty sky below him and shivering slightly in the chilly night air.

Brock groans as he jogs across the living room and out onto the patio. “What are you doin', Doc?” He asks as he approaches. “It’s too late at night for this.”

Doc turns to look at him with a blank expression. “I’m just… sitting here.”

Brock lets out a short laugh and leans his crossed arms against the ledge. “Right. Just enjoying the view?”

“Something like that.” Doc looks back out over the skyline. “I never thought I’d miss the compound, but…”

Brock waits a very long time for him to finish his thought, then grunts when it becomes apparent he won’t. “You okay?”

Doc shrugs. He doesn’t look at Brock as he folds inward, wrapping his arms around himself. Brock nods his understanding.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

“No.”

Brock lays a hand on his shoulder. “ _Doc_.” He means for the nickname to come out like a warning, but his tone makes it more of an invocation. Doc turns to look at him, glaring, an eyebrow raised over his glasses, challenging Brock to stop him from doing exactly what he wants. Funny how that’s always been what it boils down to, protecting Thaddeus Venture from himself.

With a huge sigh, Brock removes his hand from Doc’s shoulder and hoists himself up onto the ledge. He hangs his own legs over and swings them experimentally. One of Doc’s shoes has fallen off. He foot is probably cold.

“What are you doing?” Doc asks in an irritated tone.

“Keeping you company.”

Doc snorts. “I thought it was too late at night to humor me. We both know I’m not gonna do it. You can go in to bed if you want.”

Brock shrugs. “Like you said, it’s a nice view.” He glances sideways at Doc, who’s watching him with a strange mix of impatience and affection.

“Brock.” He says after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“I’m cold.”

Brock laughs, throwing his head back and looking up at the wide, empty sky, washed out with the light of the city. Doc’s chuckling, too, a nervous, hesitant sound, and Brock scoots closer to him on the ledge and pulls him into his arms. His skin _is_ kinda cool to the touch.

Doc sighs and leans his head on Brock’s chest. “I keep thinking that I want to go home.” He murmurs after a while.

Brock gives him a small squeeze. “Me too, Doc.”

“It wasn’t even much of a home, really. Ghosts in every corner. That awful wallpaper. All my dad’s old things.” Doc sniffs. “But… it was still _mine_ , you know?”

Brock does know. Brock knows that for all Doc acts like he wants money and power and success, what he _needs_ is to be surrounded by people who really, truly love him. And while the boys growing away from their father and taking advantage of their newfound freedom in the city is healthy and understandable, it can’t be doing anything to help with the whole “losing your home and way of life” deal. Brock gives Doc’s shoulders another little squeeze.

“Let’s go inside.”

Doc nods. He turns around and slides down off the ledge, rubbing his ass and wincing as he straightens up again. “I’m probably getting too old to be sitting on a hard wall in the cold for an hour, anyway.”

Brock climbs down himself and grins. “Yeah, you probably are. What are you, going on fifty this year?”

A put-upon sigh. “I wonder if the boys plan on coming back tonight.” Doc says, pointedly ignoring Brock’s question.

“Let ‘em stay out if they want, they’re both probably safe. Dean’s with that spider guy and Hank’s at work.”

Doc hums in agreement as they make their way across the patio and back through the glass doors into the penthouse. It’s much warmer inside, and it might be Brock’s imagination but he could swear Doc perks up once they’re inside and he’s started to warm up.

That is, Brock assumes that’s why he’s perked up until he turns around and pulls Brock into a brief but searing kiss before heading towards his room.

Brock feels thrown completely off-balance by this uncharacteristic display of affection. Sure, Doc can get a little touchy-feely when he’s feeling off, but it's never extended so far as kissing and Brock had been sure he’d managed to squash any romantic interest the man might have had in him the night he’d quit the OSI and left the compound. Brock doesn’t like to be wrong and the idea he’d been wrong about _this_ is even worse. There’s only one way to find out, though.

 “Doc?” Brock calls after him. Doc waves a hand over his shoulder and doesn’t look back, and Brock has no choice but to follow him if he wants to talk. With a roll of his eyes and a quickly muttered swear, he heads after him, hurrying through the penthouse and and leaning against the door frame of Doc’s bedroom. He crosses his arms and ankles and stares.  

“What is it?” Doc says waspishly from inside the room. He doesn’t look at Brock as he fluffs the pillows on his bed.

“What the hell was that?”

“What do you think?”

Brock considers their positions for a moment, watching Doc move around the room. “I think you’re tired and lonely and should go to sleep.”

Doc snorts. He begins undressing, pulling out pajamas from his chest of drawers. “Fine. Go away, then.”

He doesn’t really want to, but he doesn’t particularly want to continue this line of conversation, either. So he strides into the room and stops Doc’s hands on the buttons of his pajama top, taking them in his own.

“No.”

“No, what?” Doc asks. His tone is oddly breathless.

“I’m not gonna leave you.” Is what spills out of Brock’s mouth, and oh god, there it is. The thing that had urged Brock back here, that had been gnawing at him for the last couple of years. There’s this horrible gaping guilt, not because anything’s gone wrong without him but because he’d left it up to chance. Something _might_ have gone wrong, _might_ have happened, and he’d just… walked out. Turned his back on his family, the boys and this stupid wretch of a man that he can't help but care about.

Doc’s looking at him with a shocked expression, his mouth slightly open. Before he can say anything Brock kisses him, hard, trying to communicate without words how goddamn sorry he is for everything he might have put him through over the last couple years. He doesn’t know if it’s working but Doc is moaning under his mouth and his hands and that’s good enough for him.

He makes quick work of Doc’s pajama top, carelessly half-buttoned as it is, and pulls back to press a sentimental kiss to his chest, over his heart. Doc looks like he wants to say something scathing, but a blush is rising in his face, and Brock grins at him before pulling his pajama bottoms and briefs off.

“That’s not fair.” Doc grumbles, sitting up just enough so he can reach to untuck Brock’s shirt and pull it up over his head. “I’m not going to be the only one naked here.”

Brock laughs. Doc smiles back at him. He looks very much like a man who’s expecting to be well fucked before the evening is done, and not at all like a man who had been contemplating suicide half an hour ago. Emotional impermanence, thy name is Rusty Venture.

His expression darkens as he traces a finger around the metal plate on Brock’s chest. Brock swats his hand away. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now grab the lube and a condom.”

 

An hour or so later the pair lay in Doc’s bed, Brock’s eyes drifting closed as he runs a hand up and down Doc’s back.

“I’m sorry I left.” Brock murmurs into the darkness. Doc shrugs and scoots even closer, rearranging one of Brock’s arms around his shoulders as he lays his head on him.

“You came back. I think that about evens it out.” Doc says very quietly against his chest.

Brock’s not sure that’s true, but with his arms full of sleepy super-scientist, warm and content, he’s not inclined to argue. He doesn’t have plans to leave again.


End file.
